


How Could You

by Imagines_Dreams



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagines_Dreams/pseuds/Imagines_Dreams
Summary: You were born with a tattoo of your soulmate’s first words to you. However, the universe also gave humanity something else. Whenever someone was hurt to the point of it possibly being fatal, their soulmate’s tattoo would light up, and they would feel the pain as well. The pain and glow would only lessen if they could find their soulmate in time. You didn’t think you’d ever have to use that information. Unfortunately, you had to.





	How Could You

You retraced the words on your arm, forever tattooed until they were said by the person the universe set you up with. **Sorry, I didn’t know…** You weren’t exactly sure what to make of those words.

It could’ve been a bully, which was the worst case you had thought of. Some person could just shove you against the lockers, you say the words that were tattooed on that person’s arm, and the person would back off and say those words.

It could’ve been as simple as someone who bumped into you and apologized before trailing off because of something.

Either way, you would’ve taken either of those situations over the one you got.

Class hadn’t started yet, and that gave a couple in the back the few minutes they needed to realize they were soulmates. How lucky of them! Even you sighed at the sight, along with the rest of your classmates and your teacher.

You traced the words again. The ellipses, too. Why would he trail off?

* * *

Connor covered his soulmate mark with bracelets. He’d rather not see the words **How could you do this?** every single fucking day of his life. Still seventeen years old and he hadn’t found his soulmate. Not only that, his soulmate probably would loathe him. These first words were more than enough to tell him so.

He shook his head. It didn’t matter anyway.

* * *

You groaned as your last class decided to skip the syllabus and talk about soulmates. You tucked your chin in your folded arms and let the teacher drone on. You already knew everything. Not only were the first words they would say to you were tattooed on your arm, but your tattoo would burn when they were seriously hurt and soulmates were great and remember not to get married and always use a con-

“(Y/n)!”

You snapped out of your daze and smiled politely. “What?”

“How could you track a soulmate?”

“Oh.” You tapped your pencil against your desk as you tried to remember the fail-safe. “You, uh, will feel their pain when they’re seriously hurt. The closer you get to them, the, uh, less pain you feel.”

“Correct. Now can someone tell me the average age someone meets their soulmate?”

Some eager classmate answered, “Sixteen!”

You rolled your eyes. Seventeen and no soulmate. How lucky were you?

Maybe it was better to meet them later though. You smiled and thought about meeting your soulmate before graduation and dating over the summer. Maybe the two of you would be close by and visiting wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe it became a long distance relationship, and the two of you videochatted frequently and shared weird college stories.

And marriage. You weren’t one to desperately plan a marriage years before it happened, but it sounded nice. Getting married to your soulmate after settling down and knowing all the little quirks. Or maybe the two of you agreed to move in first in a small apartment and grow closer that way.

And maybe there’d be fights over where to spend vacation or how to pay the bills, but in the end, the two of you were meant for each other, and you would work through it. And nothing would matter because they were always with you.

You sighed at the thought. One day.

* * *

Class had ended and you were more than thankful for it. Once you were out the school doors, your arm itched. You stared at the elegantly branded words on your arm and scratched it. You shook your head and walked home.

Your itching didn’t stop. It was if the farther you got from the school, the more the irritation spread and intensified.

You winced and glared at your the words, now red from all your scratching. “What the hell?” you whispered as you examined the tattoo. You’ve heard of regular tattoos getting infected, but you hadn’t heard about the soulmate tattoos getting so itchy.

Suddenly, your tattoo glowed scarlet and your wrist burned. You screamed and gasped and cursed You cradled your wrist to your chest as the pain grew and grew.

Your soulmate! How were you supposed to… You grit your teeth and dropped your backpack. Work could wait. Keeping your wrist to your chest, you ran towards the school. The pain lessened, but your wrist didn’t cool down much. It still felt like someone was cutting into your arm.

You gasped. You wanted to stop and catch your breath, but you just couldn’t. Not when your soulmate was in danger. How the hell was he supposed to be in so much pain? Was he older than you? A car accident maybe. Food poisoning? Was he a part of some sort of gang?

It didn’t matter. You had to find him. Save him. Something!

The pain lessened.

You smiled and looked around. You were in some sort of rush neighborhood, a gated community with a guard sleeping on the job. You pounded on the glass just as your wrist burned again.

“Ey, what’s the problem with-”

You held up your arm. “Can you help me? My soulmate’s in trouble.”

The guard stared at you wide-eyed and fumbled to get out. He opened the gate and ran alongside you. After he called the ambulance, he asked, “Does it still hurt?”

“It’s lessening, but- ah!” You tripped over your feet and held your arm to your chest. Tears burned at the back of your eyes. What was going on?

The guard helped you up. “Come on. You’ve got to find whomever.”

Your tattoo’s glow intensified the more you ran. “That’s good, right?”

“Should mean we’re close!” The guard looked from house to house then gasped. “If your soulmate’s around your age, there’s only one family with high school kids.”

“There, then!”

The guard led you to one of the houses, pristine and perfect in every way. Your tattoo’s glow was brighter than ever and the pain was just an ache. “This is it,” you stated. The guard knocked on the door. Once the door was open, you didn’t waste any time. You ran inside and looked around.

You saw only a woman in the house and a girl near your age, but she didn’t look like she was in any pain. You sprinted upstairs and opened each door. An office. A bedroom. Another bedroom.

You nearly ripped the last door off its hinges. Once you did, you screamed.

You gasped for air at the gory sight and crouched down next to the boy. The tears in your eyes were already dripping from your chin. “How could you do this?” you blubbered through the tears. You held his hand and wrist, trying to staunch the blood, and shook your head. He was so young, so handsome, so… pale.

His eyes widened at the sight of you, and suddenly, tears of his own fell from his eyes. He gulped. “Sorry,” he gasped, “I didn’t know…”

Suddenly, your physical pain evaporated. You didn’t have to look to know your tattoo was gone. But that didn’t do anything about the emptiness in your gut. You grasped his hand. “(Y/n),” you whispered. You brushed his long hair from his face and kissed his forehead shakily. You shook your head and sobbed over him.

Your soulmate’s grip was getting looser and looser, but he managed to say, “Connor.” He managed a small smirk, barely a twitch of his lips.

The sounds of sirens blared in the distance. You sighed. “You’re gonna be ok, Connor. You’re gonna be ok.” You nodded frantically and tried your very best to ignore the blood staining your clothes and skin.

Connor just shook his head.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Save your energy, please.” You brushed his hair back and smiled as much as you could.

“Step back, Miss.”

A group of people helped get Connor on a stretcher while his mother wailed. They invited her to be with him, but Connor did something you didn’t expect. He protested. “(Y/n),” he said. He gulped visibly. “(Y/n).”

You didn’t waste a single second to get in and hold his hand as the emergency responders continued to work around him. “Hey,” you whispered. You gulped and wiped your eyes and cheeks. “You’re gonna be fine.”

He shook his head. “It’s ok.”

“Stop, if you keep talking-”

He gripped your hand. “Don’t listen to what they say about me. Please.”

“Never,” you responded. “Please, Connor, I had plans. I was going to meet you before graduation and go on a few dates and get married or move in one day.” You stroked his cheek. “Please, don’t leave,” you begged. You leaned down so your cheek was against his chest. “Just don’t fall asleep. Keep your eyes on me.”

Connor took one long shuddering breath. “Moving in sounds nice.” Then, he lifted his head ever so slightly.

Just as you lifted your head to tell him to lay down, Connor kissed your forehead.

You gasped, and a spark of hope ignited. Suddenly, all of your daydreams were filled with his image. His long hair and his bright eyes. His smile and his laugh you’d yet to hear. “Connor- hey!” His eyes were closed! “Connor!” You held his cheeks and scrutinized him. His cheeks were growing cold, and his skin already felt tight around his bones. “No, Connor!” you cried.

“Miss, please-”

“No!” you cried. “No, Connor, please. I couldn’t even say it.” You bowed your head as someone pried your hand from his body and rushed him inside the emergency room. Someone tried to comfort you, put a blanket on you and coaxing you to talk, but you couldn’t. You barely knew him, but my god the pain wouldn’t stop. It ate you up from the inside that you didn’t meet him sooner.

Maybe if you were faster. Maybe if you had noticed the itching earlier. Maybe if you had called the ambulance sooner.

You should’ve said more. You should’ve asked more. You should’ve done more.

The most devastating part was you only knew his name.

You didn’t know why the tears couldn’t stop. It hit you throughout the day. Anytime you saw the color red. Any time you accidentally caught sight of you empty arm. Any time you passed by that gated neighborhood.

Sometimes, just hearing someone say your name broke you because he had only said it a few times, and he’d never get the chance to know more.

The Murphy’s weren’t that great to spend time with. The parents were constantly arguing and the sister, Zoe, was cold to you. You only had dinner at their house once, but you did get something out of it.

“You can look around if you want,” Mrs. Murphy said. She opened Connor’s door and tears sprung from her eyes. “It’s clean now, so just do what you will.” She covered her mouth and retreated to her own bedroom.

Tears filled your eyes, but you forced them back. You stuck near the walls, away from where you found him. You stared at the emptiness of the walls, except for one poster of some old band you didn’t recognize. You played with the corner of the poster and realized something was written on the back.

You closed the door and peeled off the poster slowly. There were tally marks. The bottom said, “Til 16th birthday.” All of it was scratched out. You pursed your lips. He was waiting. Connor was counting down the days until he could meet you!

You traced the scribbles and bowed your head as tears escaped again. He was mad. He hated that he didn’t meet you. That you probably would end up hating him. That nothing was going his way. You put the poster back up and roamed the room. There wasn’t anything else, not much. However, you did find one thing you wanted to keep.

You found a hoodie on the back of his chair. Grey and dirty and smelly, but it was his. You saw it in too many pictures. You pressed the hoodie against your chest and cried. He deserved better. Connor deserved so much better.

You crumpled to the floor, his jacket still in your grasp.

You let out a deep breath, cracked your neck, and smiled as you opened the door to your new apartment. Finally, you were mostly unpacked and you had a stable job. All you had to do was keep living life until old age or whatever.

You unpacked a box of trinkets for a personal touch and paused when you found a familiar picture frame. Zoe and you had a mutual understanding as two of the girls in Connor’s life, and she gave you a picture of him.

You gulped and placed it on your bedside. You wrapped your arms around yourself and snuggled into your hoodie, his old hoodie. That hole was still in your gut, never leaving, never lessening. “We’re finally moved in,” you whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> .... sorry for the angst. Kinda. Not really, but uhhhhh.... yeah, Im sorry, I had fun writing this. I love angst!
> 
> If you really liked this oneshot, please comment and tell me what you think. Thanks!


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